


dying

by SanguisetVulneraAstra



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1957743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanguisetVulneraAstra/pseuds/SanguisetVulneraAstra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“God, Cas, you feel so good.”<br/>And It thinks.<br/>I must be dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dying

Its gasping for air, trying to breathe around sensation that is burning It up from the inside out, a roaring blaze that’s engulfing It, searing Its fingertips, Its lips, filling Its head with smoke. Its gasping for air, and then Its drowning, suffocation sealed with Dean’s mouth on Its own. _My own_ , It thinks dazedly, while Dean rocks against It, above It, on top of It, sending thrills up Its spine. And God, this is what it must feel like to be dying, slow and overwhelming, not like the instantaneous oblivion It has felt before. This is bliss; this is devastation. It is the slow sinking damnation that has Its toes curling, back arching underneath lascivious touches that drag moans from Its lips, not always unwilling. 

“ _Please._ ”

Desperation. 

The word is a plea for a multitude of things. Please. Please, make Heaven _right_ ; please bring the fallen _back_ ; please make it all _stop_. _Father. Dean. I need_ \- And Its head is lost again, sparking around a cataclysm as Dean seeks out the pulsing heat between Its thighs, gives a tug that makes It want to cry. _Don’t stop, don’t ever stop._ Don’t ever change, Dean’s voice between Its ears, old memory a remnant that fractures, shattering when Dean delves his tongue into Its mouth, explores the warm cavern there as if it is something to be pillaged, rent asunder and taken for all that it is worth. 

Priceless. 

What passes next is a blurring, a nebulae that misconstrues perception but is dazzling none the less. Belatedly, It notices the absence of Its pants, the wreckage of Its shirt, unbuttoned in such a haphazard rush that It barely recalls the underlying strength that ripped buttons from their stitching. Dean has transformed into an ember masquerading as flesh, leaving scorch marks all over, piercing through It, into It, so full and tight that It gasps unintelligible words lost to mankind. It is surging up with the build of pressure that starts low in Its gut, Dean rocking endlessly against It, so heady and wrong, but right, so right, and it is devastating, but feels so good, and It is choking again, gasping for air, trying to breathe around the sensation that is burning It alive. It cums with Dean’s mouth to Its ear, lungs expelling more heat, so much heat; Dean’s moans under-breath are like whispers making It stutter and clutch to the Winchester like a drowning man. It cums to Dean’s voice invading Its head, filling up the grey matter there, pushing into Its essence. 

“God, Cas, you feel so good.”

And It thinks.

_I must be dying._

**Author's Note:**

> Written for http://obsidiandean.tumblr.com/


End file.
